


Nerve

by takost



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Motorcycles, Background Character Death, Background Roscoe, Background Stalia - Freeform, Best Friends, Eventual Sex Scene, F/M, Friendship/Love, Male-Female Friendship, Mentioned One-Sided Stydia, Sex Scene Without Specific, background Morey, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 07:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14208615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takost/pseuds/takost
Summary: Las-Tunas beach is grilling under the sun like the barbecue in "Sidewalk" on Venice-beach while Scott is pressing the clutch and driving hard along the beach his pre-owned Honda of 2003 trying to break the record of 22 yards and 15 seconds in the air.





	Nerve

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Scott teaches Malia to drive a motorbike and they fall in love with each other.  
> Actually, this fic was translated to English from the original Russian. So please let me know if you notice any mistakes. Anyway, enjoy xx. 
> 
> Yelawolf feat. Eminem 'Best friends'

Las-Tunas beach is grilling under the sun like the barbecue in "Sidewalk" on Venice-beach while Scott is pressing the clutch and driving hard along the beach his pre-owned Honda of 2003 trying to break the record of 22 yards and 15 seconds in the air.

He is a simple guy from San Fernando Valley who has a 30 dollar note in his pocket and a discount in "Dave’s Burgers" but Stillinski gets him into the masses promising mind-blowing money. Scott doesn’t care, he is okay with his toasts for breakfast and tricks on the beach race track. "Stop making bullshit, Sti".

He finishes a second one earlier and flips the bird when Stiles hits his shoulder. "Are you posing for girls, bro?"  
In Las-Tunas babes in bikini are sticking to Scott asking for a pic, in a moment the brunette Lexy leaves her number on his chest with a lipstick.

Next morning he suffers from a headache, Stiles jokes about sex in Malibu and the Lord of the Ring. He is guiltless because of his love-mate Malia and "ducati".

"Rosetta." He says when McCall starts to fiddle with his engine drinking Redbull and trying not to kick off in the heat. "Be tender with Her, she loves it". 

Stiles inspirits even bars "Zagnut" but the motorbike is the second woman in his life. If "ducati" were a human, he would get it into bed.

"I’m leaving you for Scott." Malia grumbles. "And you go fuck your bike."

"Scott won’t fall for it, we’re buddies." Stiles kisses her in the top. "I love you more anyway, babe." 

Malia is his bro's girlfriend. She has dimples and freckles on the loins and she is Scott’s mate too and paying attention to details is a normal thing. 

"Engine is broken." Scott concludes by getting off the subject. He thoughts about Malia in the shower while Stiles gets drunk and gabbles about the girl who he loves since the third grade. Her name is Lydia and she's at MIT. It means they both are lying. 

"How much do you want for the engine?" Stiles asks impatiently. 

"I'll finish if you take Liam away from the gum and grab a couples of beers for me." 

"Fuck Liam! He is eighteen, daddy, he has two legs and he can come in. Okay. Take your bike."

Scott messes around with the motorbike to a half past 12 but he corrects to a dot “ducati” with mechanic's meticulousness while Stiles is putting signs on the map of Downtown printed from the GPS-navigator. 

"You." Stiles shoves his finger in Liam. "Make believe and imagine yourself as a camera-man." 

"I play lacrosse, don't make porn."

"Bite your tongue, kid, I do mean it."

"What's going on in your noddle?" Liam slides over.

"Today Scott and I make money which baby boy Liam can win only in the lottery."

"What money do you mean, Sti?" McCall wipes engine oil spots off his face and bents over Stiles' shoulder.

"You and me, Scott. We'll break the record of the great Travis Pastrana. The M-towers. We'll skip over the first one to the second one." Stilinski shoves his finger in map's marks. "I figured everything out in advance, there is enough space to get speed there and we'll have plenty of time to slip away. Come on, Scott. That's 20 thousand dollars!"

"Are you kiddin' me? There is more than 80 yards between the Towers, we'll fall down."

"We can. I know what I'm talking about, just trust me. Those Towers are the best out of four for tricks. We have driven for three years, we have done shedloads of tricks."

"Stiles."

"Scott, listen to me. Dad got into fucking debt, and I... I really need that money. Today there are people who'll open the entrance to the roof for us. Understand, we haven't another chance." Stiles squeezes Scott's shoulder. "I can't do it without you."

"No, Scott." Liam thinks they're all nuts. "Don't even think about it, that's the M-towers, that's 60 fucking floors. Travis Pastrana is a motofreestyle founder, you're not fit to be soles of his shoes."

"He started with something as we did." Finally, Scott cedes and everything what Liam can do is only being flabbergasted.

"Yep, bro. We'll hitch a jackpot while baby boy will moan. Right, Liam?"

"Hah I don't go. Mince from you is not what I wanna see."

"What about mince from Scott?" Stiles neighs. "Come on, kid! I'll even buy "adult" "Bud" for you for shooting."

"I can do it myself."

"Nope, you know you can't." Stilinski holds his shoulders. "Babe, 20 bucks on your wet panties."

"Fuck yourself." Liam bursts from Stiles' grasp but he goes. 

Los-Angeles night is shining brightly with neon sign-plates and billboards. Liam's hands are shaking while Stiles is pushing Scott with his elbow cracking dumb jokes. There're 20 thousand bucks at stake and it's more than fear.

"We're die-hard." Stiles says before he presses the clutch.

Scott finishes a second earlier but Stiles doesn't hit his shoulder.  
He ends up on the second M-tower and plunges to death the day before his 21st birthday.

**___**

Scott works part-time in the animal clinic in San Fernando and every day attends a two-hour class at the UCLA bucking along on the commuter bus to Los Angeles. He calls Stiles' dad twice a week but the one consistently tells him to go to hell. "Are you out of mind to give me money, kid?"

In November the clouds gather on the horizon of California but Scott seats on the bus stop wrapping tobacco into the paper while rain washes off to drainage everything that he has left. He calls Malia but she doesn't call back. Their common friend says he saw her buying a ticket to Atlanta about few months ago. Scott falls asleep cuddling puppy picked up on the backyard of a snack bar on Venice-beach and thinks how fucking bad for him is being without Sti.

**___**

Malia gives up her trip not having crossed eight states to get to Atlanta because she gets broken already in Arizona, hurting the knuckles in dusty motel somewhere in Prescott. She bites her cheek in order not to howl his name accidentally and trembles in icy water in smeared acryl bathtub hugging herself by gaunt shoulders. She feels like a crap and is ready to punch the motel manager in his face for the check and then to bandage hands in rental room with the view on foundry.

"You should accept his death." School headshrinker said over and over again when her father died. He also told about The Five Stages of Coping With Death and Kubler Ross while Malia was picking off the paint on his table. "Acceptance." 

Everyone was looking round when she was going down school corridor (her mother, her sister, her father, all of them are in graves).

Scott was making tea and touching her hair cuddling her two, three nights in a row. And this is Scott. For other people. And Stiles was. He opened up to her. "Use me."  
And Malia like a real dog – one kind word and she is yours. 

Her dad knew both of them but one day noticed. "Your guy will end up in a bad way."  
Already. 

"Stiles." Malia talks with him only once. "Don't hope I'll forgive you." and she cries.

**___**

Days pass. They get a grip on themselves and live on both sides of Los Angeles opposite each other. (Scott lives in San Fernando, Malia – in South Gate). Malia doesn't come to Scott. She accidentally meets his Puppy named Liam in Century City but she asks him to keep his mouth shut. She literally drives him to bay and growls.

"I didn't see you." Liam agrees. His side-kick hides his boyfriend behind his back.

"Mason and Corey," He acquaints them when she pushes him out of the way, "And this is Malia. She's high threat, bang!" Liam licks lips. "You know, he waited when you text him. Only one message. Kinda "I'm ok, Scott". I said him to drop this fucking shit but he didn't. " 

The Puppy suffers from Intermittent Explosive Disorder, so it's amazing that he hasn't bitten her to death with his milk teeth for McCall yet. Scott taught him to pace himself. Scott made him shut his jaws in time. (Sadly not today).

"You gave a hoot when he really needed you. Nice job." Liam taps her on the shoulder. 

He smashes her.

**___**

Malia mustn't listen to Liam but she comes to San Fernando anyway. Scott's panel house is still in the same place. He is more conservative. He has always been. There is a key to the door under the rug in front of the entrance.

"Are you okay? Because I'm not." She thinks. Malia would have kicked this fucking confidence out off Scott and his readiness to follow Stiles. Brotherhood, "Are you with me, Scotty?... to ourselves graves."  
If would be easier if Scott fell down instead of Stiles? 

Malia was at Scott's mother's funeral. They were fifteen or sixteen and Scott sobbed violently while Stiles was hugging him and he was face-planting Malia's chest when they three were spooning on the child bed in Stilinski house. They were friendshipping. But they weren't one family.  
Stiles babbled about red-haired daughters when Scott said to Malia he would be always with her. And he was.  
" Don't leave her alone, bro, if something."  
"Shut up, Sti."

And then Stiles fell down when Scott was lucky to be alive.

**___**

They all the same don't meet that day but Malia doesn't buy a ticket for the last bus to South Gate. She's nauseous and nothing goes through her throat for three days and there is a reason why she is in Los Angeles right now and it's not because of Scott.  
Malia sees the bike an hour later near one of the beach snack bars. If it's a premonition, she'll pass for Paul the Octopus but this is "ducati" in front of her and this is Stiles' "ducati".

Malia's not the kind of a woman who loves preludes. She punches unknown one in the face without words and she even doesn't make a wry face when two others are hand-wringing her. She spits on their faces. Guys split her lip by chance but this is full drivel. Everything is full drivel except the bike. His bike.

"It's not yours." she says through gritted teeth.

"It's mine." He grins. "Your love-mate owed me." he understands who she is. 

Malia twitches but they hold her in grasp. Enough tight not to punch asshole in his holy face. 

"What the fuck?" 

"Because of the tuning. I don't argue, he gave the charm to this bucket but I tweaked it a bit after that thrash in Metropolis. What's Rosetta? A name? It was."

They painted it out. All signs that Stiles made himself. All signs that Scott and he were drawing in garage for hours. They saw a body and they stuffed it with their memories. The bike was a person for Stiles but it was the past for all of them.

Malia bursts from their grasp and hits the son of a bitch in chest when she actually wanted to lop his head off.

"Take a breath, baby! If you want to get it back, prove that you worth it. Race on the Hollywood Hills. If you are first, the bike will be yours."

They push her out of the way when someone from the snack bar calls the police. There are lookie-loos around.

"I'll be your prize. Theo, by the way." He draws his fingertip down over her cheek-bone. And he drives away.

Malia pukes in the same place where the motorbike stood.

**___**

She draws tight shirt round about her waist and slaps the grin on pretending she's okay. She has only one way.

"Malia?"

Scott is a friend, but "you're the only one I have left" hits her on the head. He said it on the day of Stiles' funeral. It was everything what he could do. Right off the bat she doesn't admit she missed him and she doesn't ask how he is. 

"Teach me to drive." Malia says. 

And she hears. 

"No."

Exhaustion in his eyes mixes with pain. He still feels guilty, Malia knows. He finished with that. Malia saw the motorbike covered with white blanket in Scott's garage. The bike is rubbish like furniture in the old house.

"I can't do it, sorry." He is firm. He drilled into his mind that he's Steve Rogers and acting so is a right thing. He has "I will not allow you to start driving, Mal" in his glance.

"Good!" She rages, because he decided everything on his own. They didn't meet for a little bit more than three months as if he is guilty towards her. He is foolish. Malia kills the idea that he is the only one she has left too. Nobody left. But there he is - Scott. A friend. Best friend. He was such one, she was sharing everything with him but she can't do it now.

"Mal."

"I'm leaving." She is feeling a lump in her throat but she won't let her fall apart again. She has already done it, it's enough, stop. There is a goal ahead. If Scott doesn't teach her to drive, she will handle it herself. 

She gains to speed. In a moment later depthlessness makes herself feel it. She falls down. She scrapes elbows but it's the least that could happen. Scott runs after her and he's in anger, he says about serpentine road and exhausted engine, vein pulses on his neck but after that he goes down with his pain about her and he hasn't a safety ring, helping hand but he folds his girl in arms and he forgets that she is his friend. Because "what if I lose you too."

"Help me, Scott."

She doesn't care that he hardly didn't go mad right now.

**___**

Malia makes clear that it's necessary for her. She doesn't defer to Scott's opinion but she sleeps with him on the same bed and it's almost like the old days. He agrees to teach her driving. He doesn't ask any questions including the question about her scuffed the knuckles but he doesn't allow her to go. "I won't let you drive my bike alone, you don't even think about it."  
He is a friend. He cares for her safety.

One evening, Scott brings Chinese food and he keeps in mind that she loves sweet-and-sour sauce, and he wipes crumbs off her mouth, and he is too cute and careful, and it is Scott who she knows for her whole life. It is her Scott. 

Everything is getting easier. While she is wrapping her arms around him from behind trying to get her comfortable (they are together on the one bike, there is not enough space), he is pressing the clutch. He does it for the first time after Sti's death. And he takes a deep breath when he drives hard along California dry track, Las-Tunas beach and leaves the motorbike behind the cliff. They talk about life drinking "Blood Orange Gose" and in a moment Scott kisses Malia biting her mouth but he has enough control to pull away from her wet lips.  
They shift the awkwardness on the beer. First.

In Malibu youth hang out on beach parties even with Christmas stockings, candy canes and Santa-Schwarzenegger-Claus. He is in slippers and shorts printed with palm trees and this is Christmas Eve. Scott gives to Malia a plastic cup filled with tequila and asks how she is. She nods and both of them play friends too good.  
But then it misfires. They get drunk and wake up in the same bed with each other. She rests her glance on his lips a second longer than necessary and she feels absolutely exhausted. She remembers the night. It's evident that he remembers it too, so he whispers. "Sorry."  
She puts denim overalls on herself not hiding her breast, although Scott doesn't look at her anyway, and she leaves him.

At midnight she jacks his motorbike.

**___**

She is on her way to the race.

Her body still feels Scott's kisses and touches when she gains speed meeting fucking Theo's gaze but all of that are for "ducati". For Stiles' "ducati". This wouldn't have happened If the bike hadn't been one of the mainest ones for Stiles (his father, Scott, Malia, the bike are meant). She wouldn't have been taught for driving and she wouldn't have pulled Scott out of doldrums and she wouldn't have pulled herself out on her own. Nothing wouldn't have been.  
Speed is above allowable value more than 40 percent (It's Hollywood Hills, 12 miles is the limit here).

"Hit the gas, babe!" Theo shouts. He's ahead a few miles. His motorbike costs more than 40 thousand bucks and it's not a Scott's "honda" but Luke Glanton was robbing banks on such one, It means Malia has all chances at winning.

She lives in the moment and growls grinding her palms by the twist grip throttle and wind hurts her ears and she almost wins but then Theo comes in first. He twists the throttle grip and beautifully brakes behind the finish line.

Someone grabs her shoulders. There're indistinct chatter, squeals of tires and roars of luxury sport cars here. She loses sight of "ducati", She loses sight of Theo. Crowd surround her. She couldn't win. She couldn't do it.

"Malia." His heart beats really fast. He found her. She shakes her head no. Blood drips down her chin but Malia doesn't feel pain but Scott does. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was my race."

"You didn't have to." "Ducati" doesn't cost her life. Nothing of this fucking world. "I can pay for it. Money which I saved to help Sheriff. His house was put up for sale about a months ago."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's my must." Scott smiles a little. "Let's to buy it. It belonged to Sti and it must stay with us."

"But you didn't want to. You knew that guy had it. You knew I would participate in the race." 

"Yea, but then you jacked my bike." Scott draws his finger down over her cheek tenderly. "Stiles asked me not to leave you. I couldn't let you go. Not anymore."  
"I know."

Scott sells his house a few days later. He almost gives it away free and his bike with it but he gets enough money to redeem Stiles' dad's house. Scott packs his bag and asks Sheriff for a room to leave some things there while Noah is wiping his wet eyes by stealth. 

"Age begins to tell." He excuses himself. Scott taps him on the shoulder. "Next time you'll bring grandkids here." He laughs. He just knows them since they were babies. All of them are his kids.

"Wait and see, Sheriff." It was necessary for Scott to understand that Noah admits it. This is more than father's blessing for the wedding and the marriage.

Scott gets on "ducati" nodding to Stilinski while Malia is fussing behind his back trying to cram their puppy back into the bag. And they ride away. By the sunset. To the sun. 

It's enough to live on. 

_To the father, son and holy spirit_  
_I hold you nearest_  
_My best friend, best friend_  
_Let the trumpets blow with your appearance_  
_I can almost hear it_  
_My best friend, best friend_


End file.
